


i'm dying to be taken apart

by lyricistjihoon



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content, also theyre in love, it's tender, seokmin likes being praised, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27469273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricistjihoon/pseuds/lyricistjihoon
Summary: Seokmin comes home.
Relationships: Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	i'm dying to be taken apart

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm dying to be taken apart. I was born to beg for you." (-The National)

A feather light brush over his brow gently scatters away the wisps and vapors of his dreams and Jihoon’s eyes flutter open to the darkness of their room, the city lights outside their bedroom window wide and blurry to his eyes, architectural star flares. Their room is cold but the hand on him is warm, familiar. It strokes through his hair and behind his ear and Jihoon sighs, slow and deep.  
  
“Is this how you sleep when I’m not around?” Seokmin asks, referring to the way Jihoon is tightly curled up around himself on his side, the covers pulled all the way up to his chin. Seokmin’s voice is quiet and gentle, albeit colored with some fond amusement Jihoon isn’t awake enough to think through.   
  
“What time ‘s it?” Jihoon croaks, tilting his head up towards their nightstand where his phone is plugged in.   
  
Seokmin cards through his hair, pushes it away from his face with the tips of his finger. “Just a little after one,” he hums.   
  
“Oh,” Jihoon says. His head is foggy with sleep and dreams hanging from the pads of his fingers. He can almost remember the feeling of them, but not anything substantial. He squeezes his eyes shut and they feel warm and stingy with sleep when he rubs them with the back of his hand. “I thought you weren’t flying back ‘til tomorrow?”   
  
“Yeah,” Seokmin agrees, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Jihoon’s neck, tender and affectionate. “We decided to come back a little early.”   
  
“You should ‘ve told me,” Jihoon hums quietly, slow and thick. “I would’ve come get you at the airport.”   
  
Seokmin says, “I wanted to surprise you,” and the sound of his laugh is soft and breathy in the darkness of the room, in the quiet of the night, and the sound makes something in Jihoon’s chest come alive with aching. He was only away for a week, but Jihoon missed him so much. “I’m surprised to find you asleep already, actually.”   
  
Jihoon makes another humming sound, has to think about words before he can make himself say them, too comfortable. “I was gonna get up early,” he says, “to come pick you up. Took the day off and everything.”   
  
Seokmin’s fingers stroke away from his hair down his neck, his hand over the blanket on Jihoon’s back rubbing comforting circles. “We can spend the day together instead, then,” Seokmin says, “I don’t have anything to do, obviously.”   
  
He finally turns his head to look at Seokmin, eyes slowly adjusting to him in the darkness. The lights outside their window paint his face in eerie pale tones and sharp shadows, but his eyes are bright and warm, just as Jihoon knows them to be. When their eyes meet, Seokmin smiles so affectionately, Jihoon thinks it should make his heart race, but it doesn’t. Instead, it makes him feel settled and calm, makes him feel warm and slow, like melted sugar running down his fingers, saccharine and sweet.   
  
“Okay,” Jihoon breathes and then finds himself smiling back, eyes fluttering sleepily. “Are you doing anything now?”   
  
Seokmin laughs. “Of course not.”   
  
“You wanna get in bed with me, then?” Jihoon asks, and Seokmin laughs again before he gets up and takes away the warmth of his body. Jihoon watches him for a moment as he strips down to his undershirt and underwear, and when Seokmin turns back to their bed, he scuts back to make space for him. He lets Seokmin settle in under the covers before he shuffles forward to press himself against his chest, head tucked under his chin.   
  
Usually, it’s the other way around. Usually, it’s Jihoon with his arms around Seokmin and Seokmin who burrows against him, who hides against his chest or who presses the shape of his body against Jihoon’s chest. But Seokmin has been away from home for a week on a trip with some of their friends, and they talked on the phone almost everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Jihoon hadn’t realized how much he would miss him, how weird it would feel to be in their apartment alone, to go to bed at night without Seokmin to fall asleep next to, to wake up by himself in the morning. Even in his half asleep state, even with Seokmin already back home in his arms, Jihoon feels needy for him, feels like he can’t press close enough to him.   
  
He can feel Seokmin’s breath fanning over the top of his head and his hands pressed over his back, steady and comforting. Jihoon nuzzles his face against the length of his neck, presses his nose against Seokmin’s collarbones. When he breathes in, he smells like outside, like the crisp cold night air and dead leaves and warmth. Jihoon doesn’t want to let him go.   
  
“I missed you,” Seokmin says softly, right before he presses a kiss to Jihoon’s head, and Jihoon sighs.   
  
“Me too,” Jihoon says, and he lets Seokmin pull back enough to lean down and kiss him, eyes fluttering close with it. Their legs are tangled together under the blankets, knees knocking and toes so mushed together Jihoon can’t tell which are his and which are Seokmin’s. “Missed you,” Jihoon says when they break apart, “glad you’re home.”   
  
Seokmin grins at him, wide and pretty, and Jihoon feels like he’s been righted back on his feet. “You should come with us next time,” Seokmin says softly, leaning in to nuzzle their noses together, the gesture making Jihoon’s heart clench with affection. He nods in agreement. The invitation had been extended to him as well, the only reason he didn’t go being that he couldn’t get out of work for the whole week.   
  
“Did you have fun?” Jihoon asks. He’s tired, or half asleep or something, but now that he has Seokmin in front of him, he doesn’t want to go back to sleep, wants to keep hearing his voice and being aware that they’re next to each other, touching and breathing the same air.   
  
Seokmin hums. “Yeah,” he says happily. “It was fun. I have to show you all the pictures we took tomorrow.”   
  
Jihoon nods and Seokmin watches him, brings his hand from Jihoon’s back to brush his hair away from his face again. When it falls right back over Jihoon’s forehead, Seokmin grins and runs his fingers through it, holds it back for Jihoon.   
  
“You need a haircut,” Seokmin tells him, laughing softly.   
  
“It’s fine,” Jihoon hums. “I just didn’t dry it right so it’s everywhere.”   
  
Seokmin laughs at him again, but there’s only fondness and care etched on his face, so Jihoon doesn’t mind. He watches the way his eyes crinkle with his grin and finds his other hand, tangles their fingers together, holds their clasped hands under his chin. Seokmin’s smile softens.   
  
After a quiet, lulling pause, Seokmin says, “We can get up late tomorrow,” in a light, breathy tone, his eyes focused on Jihoon and a little dreamy. “We can have a late breakfast and stay in and watch movies all day and then go out to eat at night.”   
  
Jihoon thinks about waking up slow and easy in the morning, about lazily touching under the covers for a long time, thinks of how nice and warm and easy it will feel, how he won’t want to leave but Seokmin will coax him out, tug him to their kitchen so he can cling to him while they make breakfast, how sunlight will pour into their apartment and paint their floors in liquid gold and wrap them up in warmth while they spend the day wrapped around each other, safe and tender.   
  
It makes Jihoon smile, makes his heart feel like sunshine poking over the horizon in the morning, the way only Seokmin can make him feel, makes him feel like that all the time.   
  
“Okay,” Jihoon breathes out softly into the space between them and warmth unfurls in Seokmin’s face, because Seokmin is always warm, summer-warm in the middle of winter, sticky summer heat warm when summer comes rolling along, perfectly kind sun-warm in the fall like he is now, his Seokmin, always so nice and calid. Jihoon thinks he can stand to be apart from him, but he likes having him close like this better, likes to feel the bits of sunlight coming off Seokmin’s body in the middle of the night warm his cold skin, likes to hold him under the covers and feel warm and comfortable with him.   
  
Seokmin squeezes his hand, detaches his thumb to rub faint shapes into the skin of Jihoon’s neck and Jihoon scrunches his nose up, tucks his chin into his neck, ticklish. It makes Seokmin laugh at him, makes him come down to press a fluttering kiss against Jihoon’s hairline, and it’s light and sweet, makes Jihoon cuddle in closer against Seokmin’s chest, their hands squished between the two of them.   
  
Seokmin lets his hair go so he can hug Jihoon against himself, hums against his head. “Did you have a good week, hyung?”   
  
Jihoon blinks slowly, tries to think of anything interesting he hasn’t already told Seokmin. “It was okay,” Jihoon mumbles thickly, “same-same. Slow.”   
  
Seokmin laughs and it rumbles through his chest and against Jihoon and it’s nice, so nice. Jihoon would like to keep bits of Seokmin’s laugh, to have with him when they can’t be together and he misses him, but he likes it better to feel it like this, to feel the lovely parts of Seokmin settle into his bones, the deep sound of his breathing, his low laugh, the breathy sound of his gentle whispers.   
  
“Sorry,” Seokmin says, rubbing a hand down his spine. “You’re tired, aren’t you? I keep talking to you. I slept on the plane and I feel awake but you were sleeping.”   
  
“‘S okay,” Jihoon says gently, shaking his head, because it is. He likes sleep, but he likes being with Seokmin more, and he missed him something full of longing, and he likes this, likes the quiet way they’re speaking and how the dark around them gets less and less so and the gentle intimacy holding hands in their bed makes him feel. “Like this,” Jihoon admits quietly, because he doesn’t usually let himself say things like that, but Seokmin is safe, and Jihoon wants him to know, wants Soekmin to know how glad he is to have him home, “like talking to you, and I missed you.”   
  
Seokmin doesn’t pull away from him but he wiggles down the bed so he’s eye-level with him, taps their foreheads together before he kisses him chastely, then softly, then slow and deep, doesn’t pull away until Jihoon has to gasp for breath.   
  
“Okay,” Jihoon breathes out, eyes still closed, “I’m awake now,” he says and then hears Seokmin laugh low and breathy and then he leans in to kiss Jihoon again, moves to lay on top of Jihoon. He tastes sweet like the cinnamon cookies they give you on planes sometimes and his lips are soft and the breath of his nose against Jihoon’s cheek feels warm and Jihoon feels like he’s overflowing, likes this too much, likes Seokmin too much.   
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says softly, right against his lips, right before he kisses the corner of Jihoon’s mouth, presses a kiss to the mole under his eye. “Jihoon,” he whispers as he brushes his lips down Jihoon’s nose, kisses the cupid’s bow of his mouth, says, “I love you.”   
  
Jihoon sighs, soft and happy. “I know,” he says gently. “Love you, too.”   
  
“I know you know,” Seokmin tells him as he nuzzles their cheeks together, makes Jihoon smile. “I just wanted to tell you now,” he says, then kisses Jihoon again, doesn’t stop kissing him, even when Jihoon is making high, needy sounds against his mouth, doesn’t stop kissing him until Jihoon feels like the gentle warmth settled in his chest drops, turns scorching and impossible to ignore.   
  
Seokmin kisses down his neck and across his collarbones, moves his hands under Jihoon’s t-shirt, his fingers pressing into the bones of Jihoon’s ribs, the soft parts of his torso, grazing over his exposed hip bones where his pants are riding low, makes Jihoon shudder and breathe in sharply.   
  
“Missed you,” Seokmin says softly against the bones of Jihoon’s collarbones, hands riding his shirt up, “missed this. Thought about this all week,” he says, moving down Jihoon’s body to kiss down his chest, open-mouthed and warm, and it pulls a sound out of Jihoon, shuddery and high.   
  
“Me too,” Jihoon manages, watching the way Seokmin’s hair falls over his face and the way the covers follow him down and drop away from them, how he can’t make out the contrast of their skins in the dark the way he usually would but can still see the way Seokmin’s lashes flutter when he looks up at him as he kisses down his stomach and Jihoon sighs, tells him, “thought about this all the time.”   
  
“Yeah?” Seokmin says, kisses up Jihoon’s chest, lays flat over him, his mouth on Jihoon’s neck. “How much did you think of me?” he asks, his mouth on the hinge of Jihoon’s jaw, sucking the skin between his teeth.   
  
Jihoon’s hands are twisted in the back of Seokmin’s shirt, trying to pull him closer, their hips flush together. Seokmin grinds down against him and Jihoon gasps, hips stuttering up, fingers tight around Seokmin’s shoulders.   
  
“Hyung,” Seokmin says against the shell of Jihoon’s ear, hips rolling against his again, and again, and Jihoon feels lightheaded and breathless, turns his head to catch Seokmin’s lips, licks into Seokmin’s mouth with practiced ease, but he’s so out of his mind and needy that it’s messy and uncoordinated.   
  
Again, Seokmin says, “Jihoon,” voice low and quiet against his lips. Seokmin usually only uses his name alone when he’s trying to get his attention and it shouldn’t drive Jihoon so crazy, but it does. He whines, hips rolling up when Seokmin’s stop moving, desperate for friction, for anything, and a thrill of satisfaction rolls down his spine when it makes Seokmin moan, mouth falling open.   
  
“Hyung, wanna touch you,” Seokmin sighs, hands running down Jihoon’s side and front, sending shivers up Jihoon’s body, “wanna suck you off, please, can I?”   
  
Jihoon breathes in sharply and nods, says, “Yeah, okay.” His eyes flutter close when Seokmin leans in to kiss him, and when Seokmin touches him through his pants and his body jerks against him, Seokmin swallows up the sounds he makes, greedy and hungry, and Jihoon tries not to press up into his hand but it’s no use and he feels absolutely crazy.   
  
Seokmin crawls down his body and when he tugs at his waistband, Jihoon lifts his hips so Seokmin can tug his pants off, kicks them the rest of the way off himself.   
  
A week is not a long time, Jihoon thinks objectively, but it sure seems like it with how on edge he feels, toeing the line. He lifts himself up on his elbows to watch Seokmin, watches him settle between Jihoon’s legs and then get distracted by his thighs, running his hands along them and squeezing them between his fingers, pressing hot kisses over the sensitive skin.   
  
It helps take some off the pressure off, helps distracts him from the cold air over his flushed skin and eases the need in Jihoon’s chest, until Seokmin works his way up, presses wet kisses against the underside of his cock, wraps his lips around the head, tongue pressing against his slit, wet and warm and soft.   
  
“Fuck, Seokmin,” Jihoon sighs shakily, arms shaking when Seokmin looks up at him. His fingers are firm when they wrap around the base of his cock but his mouth stays loose, makes a mess of the whole thing as saliva drips down the shaft and Jihoon gasps, overwhelmed, can’t believe Seokmin has the energy to tease him right now when Jihoon feels completely out of his mind with want.   
  
“Seokmin-ah,” Jihoon gasps softly, shifting his weight to one arm so he can thread his fingers through Seokmin’s hair. “Feels so good,” Jihoon tells him, “don’t tease me, Seokmin-ah, please.”   
  
Seokmin makes a soft sound like a sigh, eyes fluttering close as he slips down almost the rest of the way, Jihoon’s cock in the tight wet suction of his mouth, and Jihoon can’t help the way he tugs Seokmin’s hair, or how he moans in relief.   
  
“You’re so good,” Jihoon says, because he is, and because he knows Seokmin likes to hear it, proves it when he makes a small, soft sound around him, the vibrations making Jihoon jerk in his mouth. Seokmin squeezes his thighs and watches Jihoon watch him, hair in his eyes and skin flushed.   
  
Jihoon almost can’t bear the weight of Seokmin’s eyes, how good he looks, but he can’t not watch, so he tells Seokmin, tells him, “You’re so pretty, Seokmin-ah, so pretty like this and always so good for me,” and watches the way it makes Seokmin’s eyes slip shut, gasps when Seokmin takes him deeper, the soft heat of his mouth making him crazy.   
  
He tips his head back, neck arched, but when he tilts it back down, he catches the movement of Seokmin’s shoulder that makes him realize he’s touching himself, and that pushes Jihoon closer to the edge.   
  
Seokmin looks at him, stares at the heaving movement of Jihoon’s chest, the part of his mouth, and Jihoon brushes his hair away from his face to see him better. He takes a hand off Jihoon’s thigh, puts it around Jihoon’s hip and tugs up, and Jihoon breathes out shakily.   
  
Jihoon tugs at Seokmin’s hair, jerks up into his mouth, careful at first, and then does it again when Seokmin moans around him, and again, and again. He’s already so close, too on edge from being apart from Seokmin, too dizzy with want and heat.   
  
“Seokmin-ah, ‘m so close,” Jihoon gasps, pressing into Seokmin’s mouth and watching the way he works himself with his hand and makes soft sounds of approval, and it’s good, feels too good, Jihoon can’t take it, feels totally overwhelmed by Seokmin.   
  
He sees white when he comes, makes a long, gasping sound, fingers tugging at Seokmin’s hair as he falls back on the bed, and Seokmin is still so good for him, works him down from it until Jihoon’s breath evens out, until he can open his eyes and look down at him.   
  
Jihoon reaches for him, tugs him up by the shoulders as Seokmin whines, pressing himself against Jihoon’s body. He takes Jihoon’s mouth, kisses him messy and desperate, and he can taste himself on Seokmin’s mouth, and the warm press of Seokmin’s tongue.   
  
Jihoon kisses down his jaw, his neck, says, “What do you want, sweetheart?” and holds Seokmin closer when he shudders against his chest.   
  
“Want you to touch me,” Seokmin gasps, presses his forehead against Jihoon’s shoulder, hips jerking against Jihoon’s stomach. “So close, hyung, please--”   
  
He cuts off on a moan when Jihoon slips his hand down his underwear, wraps his hand around him, his cock wet and warm in Jihoon’s hand. He sighs in relief, soft and pretty, and Jihoon tells him how good he is and how pretty he looks and sounds until Seokmin arches against him, says Jihoon’s name brokenly as he comes and spills over Jihoon’s hand. Jihoon keeps stroking him, plants kisses everywhere he can reach, movements gentler and genter, until Seokmin lifts his head to kiss him, slow and relaxed.   
  
Seokmin sighs against him when they break apart, rubs his nose against Jihoon’s, looks at him down his nose. He’s too close to focus on, but Jihoon still knows what the look in his eyes is, the way Seokmin can look at him with so much warmth and affection it makes Jihoon ache.   
  
“Did I spring that up on you too much?” Seokmin asks him, a smile tugging at his lips.   
  
“I’m not complaining,” Jihoon tells him, the same smile tugging at his mouth.   
  
They have to move and clean up eventually, but they spend a long time enjoying being in each other’s arms again, and afterwards, they fall asleep curled up around each other, comfortable and familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> just a short silly little thing while i'm in between lengthy fics and ideas.
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/lyricistjihoon) !


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